The Dark Angel
by Rainbow Fruits of Apathy
Summary: The knife dug into my arm, and I gave a soft grunt. Then I ripped my arm back off the blade, and pulled my own silver knife from my boot. I buried it in the werewolf's neck and watched its writhing slow and cease. "Dirty Downworlder," I spat. My name is Clarissa-Seraphina Morgenstern. AU where Jocelyn left Clary behind on the day of the Uprising? Eventual Clary/Jace
1. Werewolves

**Please review. Disclaimer: I don't own any of Cassie's characters.**

* * *

**Clary:**

The knife dug into my arm, and I gave a soft grunt. Then I ripped my arm back off the blade, and pulled my own silver knife from my boot. I buried it in the werewolf's neck and watched its writhing slow and cease. "Dirty Downworlder," I spat the words out. "The world is better without you in it." The beast was dead. Of course, it looked like a man now, but I had the searing claw marks that raked my back to prove otherwise. I couldn't reach the marks on my back to draw an Iratze rune with my stele, so I pull out my phone, wiping my bloodied knife on my maroon, skin-tight dress as I do.

"This is Jonathan." My dear brother, so sweet and open.

"It's Clarissa."

His voice changed immediately, going from a murderous danger to a more... seductive one. "Little sister. To what do I owe the call? I though you were out partying with those ridiculous mundanes."

"I was. Some damn werewolf attacked me in an alley."

"Were you partying in an alley, Clary-Sera?"

"No Jonathan, I'm sorry. I saw the werewolf and was just so in love."

"Don't be so sarcastic!" He snarled, his hatred for Downworlders coupled with a hatred for sharing me. "What did you call for?"

"The bastard scratched my back."

"Bring me to you, beautiful."

I grinned and sat on the dirty alley floor, ignoring the pain. Pain wasn't a problem for me- I'd grown accustomed to worse pain that this, and had learnt to ignore it. Pain mean's you're alive, and can still deliver death. I drew my stele and etched one of my newest runes into the brick wall beside me. It was similar to a portal rune, but a portal to a person, rather than a place. I make runes for Jonathan and my father, Valentine, but they prefer that I draw them- there's too much room for error for them to draw something they don't know well. My beloved brother stepped from the wall dressed only in the pants he trains in. His gorgeous body brought things to mind that I shouldn't have been thinking right then. As he leaned down to pick me up, I locked my arms behind his neck and pulled him down onto me. His soft lips were fierce on mine, his tongue exploring my mouth, as if we hadn't done this a thousand times

He pulled back for breath, and said, "If I'm going to heal those scratches, then you're going to have to take the whole dress off." He grinned at that, and I did so without a scrap of care. I probably would have done it even if it wasn't my brother and lover. The dress didn't cover much to start with, and I was wearing lingerie underneath. I roll over onto my stomach, and Jonathan straddles- unnecessarily- my back, pressing himself against me as he draws the healing rune on my back.

My name is Clarissa-Seraphina Morgenstern. I'm a Shadowhunter, and the daughter of the most hated monster of all time, Valentine Morgenstern. I'm really not a fan of him- he was the reason for my mother leaving us- but his ideas are sound: conquer, kill, hate almost everything... okay maybe not, but hey, that's how I grew up (No thanks to you mum, whoever and wherever you are). I have more angel blood than normal for a Shadowhunter (Thank you, dearest angel Ithuriel), giving me the ability to create runes .My brother- my poor, incestuously oriented brother- was born with the blood of Lilith, which makes him a better fighter than I could ever be. What we have, Jonathan and I, is complex. I won't try to explain it. It's not important.

This is important though: In two days, I'll be leaving my family to pose as a runaway from my father, and to be taken into the tender care of the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute.

***Two Days Later***

Tears streamed from my face as I knelt in a pool of my own blood, before the gates of the New York Institute. "In the name of the... the Clave, and the-" I choked- I was choking on my own blood. "... and the Angel Raziel... I ask- I ask entry to this place." I began to cough that disgusting red liquid and shadows danced before my eyes as my hand touched the Institute's door. Just before the wave of darkness pulled me under, I saw a gorgeous golden boy beyond those doors.


	2. Weapons

**Jace:**

"We'd tell you if she woke up, Jace. I don't understand why you sit there anyway." Alec put his hand on my shoulder. He was so oblivious, my _parabatai_.

"I know you would, but... I don't know why I stay." Lie. I knew why I stayed at the bedside of a girl I didn't know. A girl who was definitely a Shadowhunter, if her rune-scars said anything about her. A girl I found on the institute's doorstep, bruised and bleeding out. It was more than that she was sweet and beautiful. It was the words she had groaned as I had picked her up to carried her to the infirmary. The ones she had whispered while unconscious: "Jonathan Christopher..." She had said my name- my real name- but I didn't even know her. _That's_ why I stayed. Alec nodded grimly, as If he understood my thoughts, and turned to leave. That was when the girl gave a gasp.

Alec's hand flew to the sword at his belt, and mine to my plain steel knife, but the girl flew at me, kneed me in the crotch, and I dropped my weapon, bending over despite myself. Then I felt the press of cold iron against my throat, and the warm, softly muscled arm looping around my arms and pressing my back against her. That girl was good. "Don't move." The girl commanded with steely confidence. "How long have I been unconscious?"

I spoke despite the knife. "I could answer that if you took the knife away from my throat."

"Your friend with the sword can answer. You're my insurance, golden boy."

Alec spoke carefully, "You've only been asleep for three days."

"Why am I wearing this?" She was wearing a long white shift, I remembered, and almost laughed at her tone. Almost.

"Your clothes were covered in blood."

The girl tensed behind me, but her voice was still calm. "So? Washing doesn't take three days." I did laugh then, ignoring the blade against my neck.

"We didn't wash them, Miss Warrior Princess, we burnt them."

"What?!" She shrieked and pushed me away from her, making me stumble. Despite her wrenching my dagger away at the same time, it still left a small cut on my throat.

"They're just clothes." I grumble, going into my pocket to find my stele. "Even Izzy doesn't react this bad when we burn her clothes... well, not if they're covered in blood." I say this as I trace an Iratze rune over the cut. I feel the pain begin to fade already as I walk over to a wary Alec.

"Where are my weapons?" She demands, cool demeanor slipping, now replaced with a slightly frantic air.

"Oh, you mean the silver knife... and the iron one... and the holy water, the silver dust, the stake. Did I miss anything, Alec?"

"The seraph blade."

"Oh yes," I grin, "The seraph blade, how could I forget?"

If the girl had ever smiled, she hadn't in a while, because even though I was absolutely hilarious, she wasn't cracking a grin. I promised myself that I would get her to smile someday. "Where are my weapons?" She repeated.

"And you think that me or Alec are going to tell you?"

"Jace..." Alec said, low, warning.

She smiled then, but it wasn't as nice as I thought. It was icy and arrogant, not at all a match for a short girl with crazy red hair and a smattering of freckles. "Oh, I don't think you'd tell me willingly, but..."

Well that was a threat if I ever saw one.

"Calm down, crazy Shadowhunter girl," I laugh nervously; she's completely serious. "How about you tell me your name."

"How about you give my weapons back, and tell me _your_ name. I might just do the same."

"You'd give me back my knife?"

"... Maybe." There, right there. I almost missed it, but her face might have twitched into a slight smile. Her pose was still defensive, her demeanor quietly threatening, but those hard green eyes softened, more like rock than diamond.  
Alec chose that moment to be an idiot.

"Even with your weapons, you couldn't take on an Institute full of Shadowunters."

Cold laughter escaped those sweet lips. "What- three teenagers, two adults and and old man, versus a Morgenstern?"

I was shocked for a moment. How could she know who was in the inst- "Wait, a _Morgenstern_?"

The girl curtseyed sarcastically in her shift, hand still clutching my knife. "Clarissa-Seraphina Morgenstern, daughter of Valentine Morgenstern, leader of the Uprising, at your service... or - if you prefer- not."

Alec drew the sword, ready to advance, but stilled under my hand. Instead, he asked, "Why are you here, traitor?"

She cocked her head, obviously amused that I had stopped Alec from attacking her. "Adding to my traitor portfolio. My father and brother are bastards, idiots, monsters. Whatever you call them, I decided I wan't going to put up with being beaten anymore. I know how to get into an Institute, and this was the closest one I knew of. So I ran away."

"Liar." Alec hissed with narrowed eyes.

Clarissa laughed bitterly, "So you think I cut myself and almost bled out, just to break into an Institute? Not likely."

"Alec," I said slowly, "I think we can trust her."


	3. Wings

**Sorry for the wait :) It's a shorter chapter, as my writer's block makes my writing terrible, and your reading would be painful.**

* * *

**Clary:**

"Alec, I think we can trust her."

Bingo. The boy Jace was on the fast lane to trusting me, which would make everything that much easier. What I didn't understand was _why_ he trusted me. Then the blue-eyed boy Alec said,

"Seriously?"

"Maybe just a little. Let's go wake Hodge. She should know that Clarissa is awake. Alec, can you stay here with her?"

"What? Why?" Alec frowned.

"Because he doesn't trust me." I laughed, "He says he does, but he won't risk leaving me alone."

"But I don't _like_ her, Jace."

"I'm right here." I rolled my eyes, knowing they'd ignore me anyway.

"Alec, you've only known her for about five minutes-"

"And in that time, she threatened to kill you!" Alec fumed.

"Only because she felt threatened herself-"

"Shut up- Both of you! I don't need a knight in shining armour to protect me. I don't _ever_ feel threatened, but I did threaten to kill you, Golden Boy, and let me tell you: I meant every word. And I like Blue-eyes here even less than he likes me, so we're at an impasse. If you're that intent on guarding me, you'll have to do it yourself."

Alec looked at me suspiciously and began to protest but Jace raised a hand to him, and then nodded. "No Alec. I'm always happy to babysit pretty girls, even Morgensterns... Though I don't really believe that you could be one of them." I could only barely resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Alec shot me one last glare and stormed out of the room. I would have been happy to sit and survey the room with it's painted ceiling and rows of empty beds, but apparently, Jace had other ideas. "You know my name."

I rolled my eyes, "Your blue eyed baby boy- a Lightwood, I'd guess- only said it a thousand times in your little conversation."

He shook his head in frustration and "No- you know my real name. Not Jace Wayland... Jonathan Christopher Wayland."

I laughed. Seriously? Jace was going to pretend to be her brother? Then, _Wayland?_ Then I understood: this was the boy who my father raised under the pretense of being Michael Wayland. The one that was also born with the angel Ithuriel's blood. Golden Boy quickly became Angel Boy. "Oh, you think you're... oh!" I laughed again, unable to ignore the mix-up. "Whatever, Jace Wayland. I know nothing of you... well except for the obvious."

"The obvious?"

"You have a massive ego, adequate fighting skills, a _parabatai_ with trust issues-"

"_Adequate fighting skills?_ My massive ego is only natural, I mean if you looked as good as I do, you'd have a big ego too. My _parabatai_ places his trust in those who earn it, thank you very much. But _adequate fighting skills?_ I could have taken you down easily if you hadn't had the element of surprise!"

I laughed and returned to the bed I had slept in, reclining. Despite the pretense of laziness, I was coiled up like a spring, ready to leap at any moment; I was gaining their trust, but like hell was I trusting any Shadowhunter in the care of the Clave- even one raised by my father. "So Jace Wayland," I shook my head at the use of _that_ name, but used it anyway, "When are you going to return my weapons to me?"

"Not in the foreseeable future, Miss Morgenstern. Or at least until we can be sure of your loyalties." I sprang up, my hand going to my hip; to the weapon that wasn't there. The source of the voice was a thin man with grey-streaked hair and a long beaky nose who was now striding towards her. Alec followed, but pulled off to the side to stand beside Jace. He smiled, and the thick scar that ran down the right side of his face grew even more prominent. The raven that perched on the shoulder of his grey suit flapped its wings and squawked when he bowed formally before her, "Hodge Starkweather. I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, Clarissa, but if you are the slightest bit like your father, then it is most definitely not."

I smiled and nodded my head in return. The last I knew, Hodge Starkweather was my father's man. If his loyalties had strayed, my presence might change that. "My father raised me, Mr Starkweather. I cannot promise that there isn't something of him in me."


	4. Woe Unto Me (Note)

Hello, hello, hello, my loyal followers.

I regret to inform you that this story isn't going to carry on any time soon, as I started it with a questionable plot, and have since then discarded my ideas almost entirely.

I might some day start over with this, with an updated plot and everything. It could potentially be beautiful. But I have commitment issues, so if that were to happen, I would write the story all at once, and add to it regularly from there. Again, I **_might_** start over; it doesn't mean I will.

Very sorry, much love, RFA


End file.
